


melt your headaches, call it home

by loonyBibliophile



Series: maybe i won't die alone [1]
Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Autism Jargon, Autistic Cassandra Cillian, F/M, Fluff, Post and the Eternal Question, Stimming, also i the author am an autistic human so i promise this is Respectful, featuring short hair cass because that's how brain surgery works???? come on tnt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 00:43:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10842903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonyBibliophile/pseuds/loonyBibliophile
Summary: Cassandra had never quite realized how much she played with her hair until most of it was, well, gone. They hadn’t shaved her whole head for the surgery, but they’d cut everything quite short, to even out things. So she kept reaching up to run her fingers through it and twirl the locks around her fingers, only to stop when she only found air.





	melt your headaches, call it home

Cassandra had never quite realized how much she played with her hair until most of it was, well, gone. They hadn’t shaved her whole head for the surgery, but they’d cut everything quite short, to even out things. So she kept reaching up to run her fingers through it and twirl the locks around her fingers, only to stop when she only found air. Relatedly, she’d never really thought of stimming as one of her bigger expressions of autism, but as her main method was stripped away from her, she was re-evaluating that. Without her hair to fuss with, she was hyper aware of the way she rubbed and tapped her fingers against each other, the way she wrapped her arms around herself, all the little fidgety things she did to self soothe. But none of them compared to the comfort of pulling and twirling at her long red curls. Unfortunately, it would be ages until her hair grew in long enough again. She considered a wig, but decided the whole process would be a sensory nightmare, and elected instead of suffer in silence. 

It wasn’t easy though. Her tumor, though it had been a death sentence, had dampened her brain’s powers. She wasn’t used to their full strength, wasn’t used to every sensation being quite this heightened. It was, she thought, the perfect intersection of misfortune. Being thrust into a situation that was hard to adapt to with one of her biggest adaptational tools stripped away. She thought about talking to the team, but frankly, she wasn’t sure what they could do. She tried wearing long necklaces, but once one of them snagged during a mission and nearly cost her one of her hands, that was quickly nixed as an option. 

The team noticed, of course. She could tell they did. But she also knew they weren’t quite sure how to approach her yet. After all, the team dynamic had shifted quite dramatically in a short amount of time. She went from some day dying to immediately dying to having her life saved. Having years ahead of her she never counted on. The team didn’t know what to do with her, and neither did she. 

As she stood in the kitchen after a particularly rough mission involving several terrifying chimeras, she twisted the edge of her skirt as she stared at the cabinets, debating what food felt safe enough to eat. 

“Hey, does anyone know if we still have croissants?” she called out to the others in the main room, leaning up on her toes to peer in the cabinet door.

“You mean like this?” Ezekiel popped into the kitchen and held up a bakery box, passing it over to Cassandra.

“Are these fresh?” hey eyes widened as she sniffed at the box, still warm and steaming and buttery. 

“Yup. Figured you might want some after that mission. It was really loud and messy and croissants are like, one of the only things I see you eat all the time.”

Cassandra blinked a few times, nodding slowly. That was true. Croissants were one of her safe foods. They never upset her stomach, and they never triggered any of her sensory issues, and they were filling. She didn’t know anyone had noticed that though. The team knew she was autistic, she hadn’t hid it, but she never really assumed they paid any attention to her related habits. 

“Oh, I always have something else for you. Don’t worry, I didn’t steal it. I picked it up after that mission in the sewer where your necklace got caught.” Ezekiel produced a paper bag from seemingly mid air and placed it on top of the box. “You were wearing the necklace ‘cos you can’t tug on your hair anymore, right?”

“Um. Yes, actually. You’re very observant.” it was a little flustering, actually. Cassandra blushed slightly as she set the box down and picked up the bag. Reaching inside, she pulled out a pale yellow and baby blue knit beanie, the kind with ear flaps and two little braid like strings hanging down from the ears. 

“I um, I thought you might be able to pull on the braids. Until your hair gets longer. I tried to find something really soft, like that big fuzzy blue coat you wear a lot.”

Cassandra pulled the beanie over her short hair, until just the wisps of her long bangs stuck out. Experimentally, she reached up and wrapped one yarn braid around a finger and tugged on it. It stretched a little, and the fabric felt soft against her hand. She grinned. 

“It’s perfect!” and before she could question it, she launched herself at him in a hug. With a chuckle, Ezekiel wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tightly. She let out a soft, unconscious hum of contentment, and then instantly gasped, jumping back with embarassment. 

“I’m sorry! It’s… I like pressure. It’s an autistic thing.” she tugged on the braid of her new hat again and stared at the floor. 

“Does that help?” Ezekiel tilted his head.

“The hat? Or the hugging?”

“Either or.”

“Yes. To both. Thank you.” she smiled shyly, one hand twisting at the yarn braid over her left shoulder and the other smoothing her skirt. 

“A’ course. I just noticed you’ve been a bit off since the surgery and I was trying to figure out why, and the brain grape was making everything a bit quieter, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was.” she nodded. “You pay a lot of attention to me”

“Yeah.” Ezekiel shrugged with one shoulder “I figure, you and me, we’ve kind of got a different thing going on than the rest of the team, and if someone was going to try and look after you a little without making you feel babied or something, I might be the best bet.” 

“You’re right. Thank you. For the beanie and the food and for…. helping, but not hovering.” She smiled gratefully at him. “We have always been a bit different, haven’t we?”

“We’re both underdogs.” Ezekiel nodded sagely, smirking. “So we know not to underestimate each other.”

“Hm, yes, very true.” Cassandra smiled playfully, leaning over to bump his shoulder lightly with hers. 

“So what did you mean by pressure?” Ezekiel asked, abruptly changing the subject. 

“Um, deep pressure. It helps regulate the autonomous nervous system and essentially helps the recipient deal with overwhelming sensory input. I have a weighted blanket, and it helps a lot, but nothing really compares to an actual tight hug. That might in part be me, though. I spent a lot of years very lonely, so being close to people I care about is really soothing. Also that was probably more information than you needed or wanted.” she could feel her face flush again, and resumed tugging at the yarn braids. Ezekiel had been right about that, at least. They did make a good substitute for pulling on her hair. 

“Oh, so kind of like those little thundervest things they make for nervous dogs and stuff?” He tilted his head. 

“Yeah, basically. They make weighted pressure vests for people too.” 

“But hugging is better?”

“For some people. Some autistic people are touch averse, or overheat with too much physical contact, but I’ve always been more of a sensory seeker than a sensory avoidant. Physical touch grounds me, especially if I’m overstimulated or hallucinating, or both. They tend to go hand in hand these days, I don’t have the best grasp of my new abilities yet. It reminds me there are other things.” she was babbling, but she couldn’t really help it. It wasn’t often people actually asked about things like that, not in a genuine way where it seemed they really wanted to listen. And Ezekiel always listened. 

“So would it be helpful to take these warm croissants and go lay down and. Hug.” he made a face and glanced rapidly between her and the floor, over and over. 

“Ezekiel! Are you asking me to cuddle?”

“I’m far too cool for cuddling. I’m asking to hug you for an extended period of time while laying on a soft surface with snacks.” his voice was deadpan, and he was smiling a little. 

“My room? And do you care if I put on pajamas?”

“All’s well on both counts. Lead the way.” he swooped up the box of croissants, and followed a few steps behind Cassandra to her room up the stairs and to the left. 

“Just a second.” she smiled, shutting the door. Quickly, she changed into a pair of soft leggings, and swapped her regular bra for a sports bra, and pulled on a loose worn tshirt she’d cut the neck off of, so it would hang loose around her shoulders. “Okay.”

“Here.” he handed her the croissants “I realized that I’m wearing tennis shoes and jeans that probably have chimera drool on them, very poor for horizontal hugging. I’ll be right back.” and with that he smiled and jogged down the hall. 

Ducking back into her room, Cassandra set the croissants on the end table by her bed, swapped the overhead light for her tinted orange string lights, and added a few more pillows and blankets from the pile in her closet to her bed. 

“Back.” Ezekiel said, leaning into her door frame. He had abandoned his shoes completely, and exchanged his jeans for a pair of black sweats. She smiled.

“Hi.” 

“Hey.” 

“So I was thinking maybe we could put on a documentary? History or archaeology maybe? That seems like something for both of us, that way?” she bounced up onto her toes a few times, tugging the yarn braids again. 

“Sounds great. Let’s get to hugging. And eating croissants.”

“Eating is very important.” Cassandra said, with a steady slow nod and smirk. “Do you mind if I take the side by the wall? I like small spaces.” 

“Makes sense. Go for it.” Ezekiel gestured towards her bed, and Cassandra nodded again, crawling in and curling up against the pillows at the headboard and along the wall. After a few moments of awkward hesitation, Ezekiel joined her and grabbed two croissants, handing her one before wrapping an arm around her. Fumbling a bit, Cassandra managed to get her laptop open and pull something suitable up on netflix, before beginning to munch on the croissant and then leaning into Ezekiel. He was warm and solid and his arm pressed against her back and side was grounding and comforting. She took another bite of croissant, and felt the stress of the mission and the loud noises and terrible sights and the low whine of her new powers fading as she snuggled further into his side, leaning her head on his chest to hear and feel the beat of his heart. 

“Zekiel?” she mumbled sleeping, a documentary and a half and three croissants later.

“What’s up Caz?” Ezekiel’s voice was equally groggy as he looked over at her.

“Thank you. For everything.” 

Cassandra leaned up and over, pressing her face into his neck before leaving a light but lingering kiss on his jaw. Ezekiel sputtered slightly as he watched her eyelids flutter shut once more. 

“Anything. Anything.” he whispered, unsure if she could even hear him, before he pulled her more tightly against him and followed her into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i definitely headcanon cassandra as autistic and i was thinking about her using her hair to stim and what would happen if it had actually gotten cut during her surgery. and i'm casekiel trash to the core, so this happened. this was really fun, and i will likely write more in this verse in the future/when i have time. hope you liked it!!


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